


Relevant Exposition

by digitalfairy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Dates, Haurchefant feels, Mutual First Time, Patch 4.1: The Legend Returns, The Echo Where It Shouldn't Be, the WoL puts her fetch quest skills to good use, wrap it before you tap it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalfairy/pseuds/digitalfairy
Summary: Arenvald finally works up the nerve to ask the Warrior of Light out on a date. Through the Echo, they quickly become closer than either of them bargained for.





	Relevant Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after patch 4.1, during the downtime between the events of the MSQ. I'm envisioning a young-ish WoL, 20 or so. Beyond that, and her being a cis woman, I didn't have anything in mind for her appearance, and I don't name her. Feel free to imagine the features of your own WoL if you like.

Rhalgr’s Reach. The home and heart of the triumphant, and suddenly very well-funded, Ala Mhigan resistance. Garlemald’s yoke is broken, a hidden cache of treasure found, and trade routes reestablished. The basin settlement bustles with activity of all types under the impassive gaze of Rhalgr, wrought in stone against the mountainside. Mercantile convoys, military units, even tourists navigate this hidden crossroads. And down near the river, two Scions of the Seventh Dawn meet by chance: Arenvald Lentinus and the legendary Warrior of Light.

_Throughout the latter half of the rebellion, when the Warrior of Light returned after demonstrating the Empire could in fact be beaten and driven back, Arenvald had fought beside her many times. Where previously he had only heard tales of her exploits, now he had witnessed her grace and strength and inscrutable demeanor firsthand. He had come to know precisely what elevated this chosen of Hydaelyn above the common adventurer. And, somewhere along the line, Arenvald had developed an enormous crush on the woman._

_At first, he hadn’t realized that’s what it was. Once he did, the sudden understanding felt like a blow from Rhalgr’s own comet. He knew he couldn’t act on it, not then. Too much was at stake; he couldn’t distract the warrior from her fight - their fight - like that. Not to mention that, somewhere deep down, he feared what he thought he knew was the only possible outcome._ She’s malms above my reach _, he‘d told himself, sadly shaking his head._

But now that it is over and done with, Gyr Abania at something approaching peace, Arenvald reconsiders his reluctance. Only for a couple moments a day, mind. A small percentage of the total time he spends thinking of her, mostly involuntarily. But due to the fractious whims of fate, one of these moments happens to fall at the precise time of their meeting that day in the Reach. _If I don’t try I’ll never really know_ , he decides as they exchange greetings, and ventures to ask something he’s rehearsed endlessly in different phrasings over the last moon.

“Now that everything’s settled, I was wondering if you might… if you’d like to maybe...” Arenvald clears his throat. “Go out to dinner with me sometime?” It ends up coming out none of the ways he’s considered, and internally, Arenvald kicks himself.

She looks taken aback for a moment. Blindsided by his question, as much as the Warrior of Light ever betrayed such a reaction. _I’ve done it now_ , Arenvald frets, but then the warrior does two things he never dared hope for.

She smiles, and answers him with a full sentence. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The jumping of Arenvald’s heart slows somewhat. He’d anticipated an immediate denial, perhaps even laughter. Anything but the flirty way her head tilts as she stares him down. “You were expecting me to?”

The Warrior of Light puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow.

Without even speaking she’s got him on the back foot. The anxious flutters abruptly return. He forces a laugh to try and cover them. “Was I that obvious?”

She taps her forehead with a gloved finger.

 _Did the Echo seriously warn her of this?_ Arenvald’s cheeks flush. “Well then. Are you… interested at all?”

Her only response is a smile and a shallow nod.

“Great. How’s tonight?”

Her smile widens slightly. “I’m not busy, for once.”

“I know a nice restaurant in the Ala Mhigan Quarter,” he offers.

She nods again, more enthusiastically this time.

Arenvald lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and matches her smile. “I’ll meet you at the aetheryte.”

She nods, waves, and jogs away, towards wherever she’d been heading before.

The Ala Mhigan puts a hand to his shiny chestplate. He swears he can feel his heartbeat through the metal. Triumph, panic, but most of all excitement. He wants to yell victory to the heavens, but settles for a restrained fist pump.

Then the sudden realization strikes that he will have to do several things to prepare, including bathe, and he’s so far completed none of the tasks he agreed to perform for the Resistance today. _No time to waste_. He turns and dashes off in the opposite direction, armor clinking.

* * *

After a hectic series of errands and misadventures, Arenvald finally submits himself to the aether and materializes in the Ala Mhigan Quarter. He’s swapped his armor for a button-down shirt, a borrowed vest, and hurriedly-ironed slacks. He’d attempted to wear a necktie, but abandoned the idea when nervous fingers could not make sense of it.

The Warrior is already there, clad in a similar getup (though without the vest). Arenvald had faintly hoped he’d get to see her in a skirt, but he mentally concedes that it makes sense for a practical adventurer type to prefer pants. “You look stunning,” he murmurs, meaning it.

She smiles bashfully and bows her head in thanks.

Still a bundle of nerves, Arenvald offers his arm to his date and leads her down the road to the restaurant. Halfway there, she shifts her grip to his hand and entwines her fingers in his, to silent exultation from the Ala Mhigan.

They seat themselves at a table, order their meal, and get comfortable. Idle chatter is slow to begin thanks to Arenvald’s lingering hesitance and the warrior’s tendency to stay quiet unless addressed, but sooner or later they find something to talk about. Well, Arenvald does most of the talking. The warrior nods, smiles, and occasionally contributes a sentence or two.

Their food arrives, and their pleasant “conversation” continues, Arenvald now regaling her with the tale of his own journey with Alphinaud through the upper reaches of buried Skalla. Though she was given the more dangerous path, Alphinaud had picked for them the more confusing. While endless dead ends and tangled passages did not precisely make for an entertaining story, the Ala Mhigan finds every way he can to inject levity into the narrative, and it appears to be working. His boisterous yarn has the Warrior of Light smiling and nodding along.

Arenvald is midsentence when he catches sight of something that draws his attention, interrupts his train of thought, and drains the color from his face.

“Are you alright?” The Warrior of Light wears a concerned expression. She puts down her fork and wipes her fingers on her napkin, leaning slightly forward towards Arenvald.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just thought I saw someone I recognized.” Arenvald glances over his shoulder, then shakes his head. “Same hairdo, but he’s got the wrong face.”

When he looks back at the warrior, she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. Her face is contorted in a quiet frown of discomfort. He recognizes the expression and sets his jaw, knowing she’s plumbing his memories without meaning to. _How many times has that happened to me,_ he mentally muses. _Having a perfectly normal conversation and all of a sudden I get the exposition dump._

_Meanwhile, in the vision, the warrior is forced to helplessly watch a larger Highlander toss a young Arenvald to the ground. “How’s it feel being a bastard half-Garlean?” The tree branch the bully wields cracks across his back and he collapses to the ground, gasping for air._

_“I hear his mother hates him,” a girl nearby jeers._

_“I would too, if I gave birth to that.” A boot finds his stomach._

The man at the other table bears no responsibility for the hateful bullying. But his beaded braids remind Arenvald of the one who does.

The Warrior of Light groans as her reverie ends. She looks up at the man across the table from her with somber eyes.

“Sorry you had to see that,” he mutters.

She blinks stoically, once, twice. “It’s not your fault.”

* * *

After their meal, the Warrior of Light surprises Arenvald by leading him in a circuitous path up onto the rooftops of the Ala Mhigan Quarter. Now they sit side by side, watching the stars. “How’d you figure out how to get up here?” the young man inquires.

“Had some spare time during a lull in the fighting,” she replies, hugging her knees to her chest and looking up at the starry sky.

Arenvald smiles. She looks so peaceful, so content. Before he can respond, though, he feels the familiar sensation of a vision coming on. He raises a hand to his forehead, callused fingers brushing his scar.

_She’s sitting with Alisaie, under the same stars but a different place. An eerily beautiful place, with crystalline structures gently floating in the air. Outer La Noscea._

_No words are exchanged, not tonight. The two just share a long moment of peace before returning to their ever-present duty._

Arenvald regains his awareness and gasps involuntarily. The Warrior of Light is before him, practically in his lap. She’s feeling his forehead as if to check for fever. She gasps too and scoots backwards, breaking eye contact as a slight blush rises in her cheeks.

“I’m fine. It was just the Echo. My turn to see your memories, I suppose,” he jokes.

“Was it at least a nice one?”

“Yes, yes it was.” Arenvald leans back. Staring up at the stars, he allows himself to space out for a moment.

A weight on his arm finally brings his attention back down to the Warrior of Light, who has chosen his shoulder for a pillow. Hesitantly, he wraps his arm around her, and when instead of shrugging him off she reciprocates, he leans into the embrace and holds her tighter.

The Ala Mhigan tries not to let himself be too starstruck. The entire evening, he’s been quietly reeling at the fact she even favored him with her time, but this is on a different level altogether. This is more intimate. _You’re a primal-slayer too_ , he reminds himself. _You’re a Scion and a hero as well. It’s not that vast a gap between us._ And what gap there is, she doesn’t seem to be heeding, so why should he?

Arenvald takes a deep breath, squeezes the Warrior of Light’s shoulder, and pulls her a little closer. She looks over at him curiously. He leans in, and she catches his intent immediately, raising her chin to meet his lips with her own.

Their kiss lasts for but a moment, and she’s the one who pulls away, but it’s with a smile on her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just fixes him with a crooked smile, the question in her expression as plain as if she’d spoken it. _Well? Are you going to leave it at that?_

Arenvald finds himself disinclined to. He leans in once more.

* * *

A slow but steady escalation of passion later, the Warrior of Light occupies Arenvald’s lap, arms wrapped about his shoulders. His hands currently rest on her hips, though the path they took to get there was quite meandering. Both heroes’ clothes are disheveled, their heart rates elevated, and it is starting to dawn on both of them simultaneously where exactly this is headed.

In Arenvald’s case, this is more intimidating than exciting. He finds himself hesitating, letting her take the lead. That is, until she lets go of him to put a hand to her forehead and grimace slightly.

“Again?” He pauses mid-caress. While he waits for her vision to subside, he has the presence of mind to glance around, to make sure they’re still alone. They are.

_Arenvald, a shade or two ganglier than in the present, is sitting on a crate with a Highlander girl around the same age in his lap. She’s got freckles and dimples and lovely brown hair. His hands go places, with less technique and nuance than he exhibits in the present, and hers aren’t shy either. Their kisses are just as sloppy and imprecise._

_A sudden angry shout. “For the last time, y’damn kids, quit doin’ that on my doorstep! Shoo!”_

_Arenvald and the girl hurry to obey, laughing as they flee the shopkeep’s wrath._

“Ngh.” She makes a soft sound as she comes to, drawing Arenvald’s attention back to her. When his eyes meet hers, she’s smiling, and he briefly frets over what she might have seen. She does not say, this time, just pulls him back in for another kiss.

He certainly does not complain about that, although eventually his curiosity gets the better of him. “What was it?”

She kisses him again, in lieu of a verbal answer. When she pulls back, she wears a wry grin. “Your first, I think. She was cute.”

Arenvald feels his cheeks color - _that’s rather an inappropriate memory to be sharing with her_ , he mentally chastises, as if it’s somehow his own fault. “My first kiss, huh.” He sighs. “She and I never quite went anywhere beyond that. We never got a chance, we...” He trails off.

“Kept getting interrupted?” She finishes his sentence for him.

“Well, yes, that was part of it. Now you know how wary I am of doing these things in public and why, I guess.”

The warrior’s eyes stray from him to explore their surroundings. Though the rooftop is isolated, it’s not the tallest in town, and the pair are most certainly still visible from the upper windows of neighboring buildings. She cocks her head toward the path back down with a smile. “Shall we go someplace more private?”

Arenvald weighs the implication for a moment. _She’s interested in going further, then._ He takes a few breaths to calm his racing heart. “I know of an inn just down the way,” he suggests.

The Warrior of Light answers with yet another nod.

* * *

Arenvald shuts the door behind them, slowly, almost reverently. The click of the latch feels impossible to come back from, a pact unbreakable. Like swearing themselves to silence. Privacy at last.

The Warrior of Light, meanwhile, is blissfully going about her business. No hint of the rampant nerves Arenvald is suddenly suffering from. She removes her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack near the door, then ventures further into the room, taking it in.

The room does not take long to survey. “Suite” would be a misnomer - it is nothing more than a single rectangular chamber. Plain but sturdy accommodations, it matches the rest of the Ala Mhigan quarter. Worked stone in shades of purple forms the walls, ceiling, floor, and even some of the counters and shelves. What isn’t stone is simple wood. The sole exception to the plainness is the bed at the other end of the room: a canopy four-poster, draped in lushly patterned Ala Mhigan textile. Arenvald tries to keep himself from audibly marveling at it. _She’s probably seen beds a thousand times more luxurious. I’d just out myself as a bumpkin, pleased by the simple things._

“Oooh.” The Warrior of Light, once again, proves to harbor no such compunctions. She immediately gravitates toward the bed, a move which inspires a certain kind of elated anxiousness in the heart of her date. One of her hands rises to feel the striped hangings.

Arenvald hangs up his vest and musters the confidence to join her. “This is nice fabric,” he remarks, playing with one of the many tassels on the fringe of the canopy. “They didn’t have beds half this nice in the room my party got last time we stayed here.”

The warrior turns to him and grins mischievously. “I think they gave us the lovers’ suite. That innkeeper had the most _knowing_ smile...”

“Rhalgr’s beard, who else is going to read me at a glance today?” he grouses playfully, not entirely sarcastic.

His date simply taps her own chest. A shiver crawls up his spine at the gentle mirth on her face. _What a tease._

Or was that a symptom of another vision suddenly being presented to him? The room spins and he feels himself sit down on the edge of the bed as her memories manifest before his eyes again.

_The warrior is younger, with shorter hair and a fresher face. He can’t tell how young, from the memory. She clings to the back of a mail-clad Elezen, riding double on a chocobo through the snow. He offers her a gentle smile over his shoulder, and she enthusiastically reciprocates._

_The memory shifts. In this new vision, the warrior trudges through the snow, cloaked and haunted. Her hair is unkempt and her expression is that of someone whom anxiety has deprived of sleep. She reaches a bleak stone structure and taps on the door for entry, and inside the world is warm and safe and she’s not an outcast, because he is there._

_This must be Lord Haurchefant. Arenvald never had an opportunity to meet the Coerthan himself, but he certainly heard tales of him by way of the other Scions. A name mentioned as a contact, a port in a storm, a staunch ally. As a selfless savior. Never as a lover, but by the way they look at each other in these little snippets, it wouldn’t have been a surprising revelation._

_Or perhaps the man was taken from her, from everyone, before they had a chance to put their feelings into practice._

Mercifully, Arenvald is spared the actual scene of Haurchefant giving his life for her. The memories of genuine, unconditional kindness spiral into ribbons and away before they can be tainted by tragedy. Groggily, the Highlander comes to.

As before, the Warrior of Light is closely attentive to his condition and perks up when his eyes can focus on her again. She must have sat down on the bed beside him while he was enthralled by her memories. He doesn’t give her a chance to ask what it was, arms reaching out to enfold her in a tight hug immediately.

“Arenvald?” Nervously, she embraces him back.

He can’t explain the sudden urge, and awkwardly lets go after a moment.

“Was it bad?” She’s still looking at him with concern.

“Not at all,” he replies, though he struggles to maintain a tone that doesn’t belie his words. He sighs. “It’s just… the Echo has a knack for striking at the most inconvenient time. I was enjoying myself. You were too, right? But all of a sudden, bam! Vision.” Not an untruth.

She pensively nods agreement, pouting slightly as she stares off into space.

Arenvald groans and flops backwards onto the bed. _Well, there goes my chance. Thanks, Hydaelyn. What a gift._

“Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again,” the Warrior of Light opines, and crawls on top of him. She leans down for a kiss, palms gently pressing his shoulders into the bed, and his surprise gives way to passion as she picks up right where they were on the roof anyway.

The warrior’s hope is soon dashed, however. Arenvald does not get to enjoy the sensation of her tongue in his mouth for nearly as long as he would have liked. He opens his eyes, curious why the kiss broke, just in time to see her sway listlessly to the side and topple off of him. One hand is pressed to her forehead, leaving it all too clear what’s going on. He sighs and pillows his head on his hands, resigning himself to the delay.

_The Warrior of Light sees Arenvald alone. A recent memory, judging by the fact he seems to be inside one of the tents at Rhalgr’s Reach. He’s clad in loose slops and nothing else, reclining on a cot in the gloom._

_After some moments of idleness, Arenvald sighs and reaches down to untie the strings of his trousers. He hooks a thumb into the waistband and tugs them down. No smallclothes underneath, just his manhood, which he takes in one hand and begins to toy with. Casual, almost bored strokes._

_The warrior, amidst embarrassment, registers bafflement that the Echo would show her this. A private and thoroughly inappropriate moment, and one she doubts is remotely at the forefront of his mind. But she can’t exactly turn away, can’t avert her disembodied view of the situation, so she settles in for an embarrassing spot of voyeurism._

_Mercifully, it doesn’t take him too long to finish. Though at the beginning he seemed vaguely disinterested, Arenvald’s breathing speeds up drastically as he nears his peak, his hand moving with a vigor that almost worries the warrior._

_He arches his back, curls his toes, and even grunts softly as he comes. His seed arcs, landing on his bare chest, some even reaching his chin. That latter splotch he wipes off with the back of his hand. He does not move to otherwise clean himself, apparently exhausted by the exertion. His cock softens in his hand as he catches his breath._

_Suddenly, muffled sounds of genial conversation approach the tent. Arenvald hurriedly rolls onto his stomach, hiding the evidence of his prior activity, and feigns sleep._

_It turns out to be the young Scion’s two traveling companions, J’moldva and V’mah. They hush their discussion when they see Arenvald realistically snoozing and the memory ends as they begin disrobing for bed._

The warrior groans audibly as she regains her senses, alerting Arenvald. He glances over at her, reaching over to comfort her with a pat on the shoulder.

She meets his gaze with a truly unique expression - some tangled mix of hilarity and desperation - that manages to give him pause. “What’s that face about?” Arenvald inquires, his own brow furrowing.

The warrior breaks eye contact and tries to suppress a shameful grin. She sits up, shaking her head slowly as she tries to come to grips with what she’s just seen. “Gods, Arenvald. I, er… sorry, I guess?”

The embarrassment in her tone sends his mind down the path of wild theorizing. She’s already seen his first kiss, what else could possibly provoke such a reaction? “What was it?” He lets a bit of concern creep into his tone.

The Warrior of Light grimaces. She can’t bring herself to actually say it. Instead, she mimes the activity with an exasperated sigh.

Arenvald watches her wank off the air with unmitigated horror. _She saw me jerking it? Rhalgr’s bloody scrote, what did I do to deserve this?!_ It’s his turn to pinch his temples, his cheeks reddening. “Oh, gods. Uhhh… sorry.”

A dismissive hand wave - she doesn’t blame him for it. She looks at him with haggard eyes, raising her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Is Hydaelyn trying to give me pointers on technique now?! Is that what this is?”

The concept is so ludicrous, her tone so comically exasperated, that Arenvald can’t help but crack up. After a moment, she does too. Amid gales of laughter, the awkwardness melts away. And as Arenvald starts to come down from the high of hilarity, he realizes the second meaning behind what she said - namely, the implication that she intends to go far enough with him that such instruction would be warranted. “Well,” he starts, “did you learn anything useful?” _Damn I’m smooth!_

The Warrior of Light closes her eyes for a moment - it looks as if she’s trying not to laugh. When she opens them again, though, they slide salaciously up his body to meet his eyes, and the bold look she gives him makes his heart jump. _I think I’m about to find out._

The Warrior of Light leans over to meet Arenvald’s eyes as she undoes his trousers blindly with one hand. _How dexterous she is_ , Arenvald thinks with delight, and part of that delight is that those god-slaying hands don’t intimidate him nearly as much as they did even a bell ago - and then she’s kissing him, gently cupping his strong chin to keep his eyes on her, and he’s glad to be distracted in such a way.

When she breaks away after a moment, she fixes him with a querying gaze. Arenvald realizes she’s waiting for consent. “Yeah, go ahead,” he breathes, and her hand immediately finds its way _into_ his smallclothes and he’s embarrassed at how his hips respond to that.

Her hand feels cold, but he knows it’s really because he’s suddenly very warm. He’s already hard, he’s _been_ hard from the moment she crawled atop him earlier. But still she seems determined to coax some additional measure of solidity out of him, from the way her fingers curl around and explore his swollen cock.

“...Okay, you didn’t learn _that_ from me,” he murmurs, just this side of breathless. It’s true - he never teases himself, preferring a much more straightforward approach.

She kisses his forehead and pulls back to a kneeling position near his groin. Now able to devote both her hands to the task, she pulls his trousers and smallclothes down slightly for more direct access. Taking his length in both hands - for he is more than endowed enough for that to be feasible - the Warrior of Light begins to stroke him in earnest, and it’s then that a lance of numbness pierces his mind and he knows he’s having _yet_ another vision.

“Gods damn it all!” Arenvald exclaims, clutching his head. She instantly stops, and he hears her voice her concern, but already real and memory is scrambled in his mind and he can’t make heads or tails of it until it resolves into…

_...A room made wholly of wood, with green-dappled light coming through the window. The Black Shroud, then, likely the Carline Canopy in Gridania. The warrior is seated on the bed, apparently only wearing a soft tunic, hugging her bare legs and swaying gently._

_Is she fantasizing? Seems so, because soon her legs part, her arms unfurling to reach down and begin hesitantly touching herself. She lets herself fall backwards, now lying down. With one hand, she spreads herself and begins tracing up and down the edges of her slit, every finger somehow employed. The other hand is devoted entirely to her clitoris. The Echo fortuitously gives Arenvald the_ perfect _angle on all of this._

_Seems it’s the Highlander’s turn to watch now. Him with perhaps more enthusiasm than she had, though he’s loath to admit it. He would much rather the first time he saw her in all her glory be with her consent and permission, but nevertheless he pays close attention to her technique, because this is definitely something he needs to brush up on, and fast._

_When she climaxes, she lets out a soft yet forceful moan that Arenvald swears he can_ feel _._

Arenvald’s vision fades back to the colorful bed hangings above him. Right away, he notices how heavily he’s breathing. His body feels tingly and hot. He doesn’t remember _ever_ being this aroused in his life. “Ah-”

The Warrior of Light looms over him, placing a hand on his forehead. “What was that one? You’re so warm, are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Ngh. Never better. I, eh, I won’t lie, it was… the same thing you saw me doing.”

She gasps and her cheeks flush. She’s hiding a nervous smile under the hand that rises to cover her mouth, though, and her eyes dance with a playful light. She glances over at his member, still free from his smalls where she left it, and the little drop of pre dangling from its swollen tip, then meets his eyes again with an almost reprimanding stare.

“I was already turned on, I can’t help it,” Arenvald protests, shifting. “I blame you for… for being so good at this.” He fumbles with the buttons of his dress shirt, suddenly desperate for a little more air on his skin.

She waves a hand demurely, breaking eye contact. Her smile actually fades, replaced with a self-conscious pout, and Arenvald suddenly wonders _Is the Warrior of Light a virgin too?_

This new prospect has him so distracted that it’s a surprise when she grabs his hand, pulling it gently away from its button-tugging. “You’re getting too far ahead,” she murmurs, still pouting down at him. “Help me catch up.” She guides his hand close to her inner thigh, then shifts position so he can better reach.

“Oh. Right, yeah.” He rolls onto his side, facing her for a better angle and view. As he’s gingerly feeling out her inner thigh, hesitant to approach that sacred place just yet, it strikes him that he wants to hear that moan from the Echo vision again. In person. He wants to _cause_ it, he wants it to be because of him that she feels that way. That sudden desire, and the plea she mumbles as his hand shies away yet again, is enough to galvanize Arenvald into action. “Ready?”

The Warrior of Light nods vigorously.

Arenvald first feels out the crotch of the warrior’s trousers without taking them off. Underneath, he can vaguely make out the outline of her smalls, and then beyond that the barest hint of that softness he could only guess at before. He doesn’t trust his ability to locate specific places of importance through at least two layers of fabric, so for now he just traces with the tip of two fingers, feeling out the shape of her and looking up at the warrior’s face occasionally to judge her reaction.

“Mmmn...” She bites her lip, her expression softening, and braces herself on the bed to push forward at him. _More_ , is the silent demand.

Arenvald feels another jolt of arousal shoot through him at that. He rubs a little faster, presses a little harder, both to respect her wishes and out of genuine virginal curiosity.

Before he can make a proper go at sating either, however, she pulls away. He frets for a moment that he’s done something wrong, but she’s just rolling onto her back to pull her trousers and smalls off and fling them away. Instead of getting back up on her knees and bidding him resume with no more clothing in the way, though, she remains lying on her back, one of her hands gently toying with herself.

Half a bell ago, Arenvald would have hesitated a lot longer before rolling onto his front and army-crawling over. He resumes touching her, with both hands this time. The Highlander’s digits explore the entirety of her sex, spreading her to see what she looks like inside, teasing the clitoris and enjoying her response.

The Warrior of Light richly rewards him with a whimper and a slight arch of her back.

It’s not long at all before he notices she’s moistening his digits with her need. Possessed by a sudden urge, he puts his left index finger to his lips and tastes it. As it happens, the Warrior of Light just briefly opens her eyes at this very moment, and she catches sight of him as he learns what she tastes like. The way she blushes and brings a hand to her mouth sends a renewed wave of arousal coursing through him.

“Can I try it straight from the source?” He feels silly the moment it leaves his mouth, but the Warrior of Light giggles in surprise and nods eagerly. Another little rush of excitement - _she’s enjoying this, I’m not totally botching things!_ \- further compounded when she reaches up and rests her hand on his head. Not pushing, just a gentle touch, but it encourages him more than force ever could. He wets his lips and lowers his mouth, pausing just before beginning. _No more guidance from the visions, only the vaguest idea how this is supposed to go from jokes and bawdy songs… I guess I’ll learn on the fly like always._

He starts with a few light kisses upon her labia. When she doesn’t squirm away or otherwise rebuff him, he hesitantly flicks out his tongue for another taste. A taste which he enjoys just as much as the first, if not more thanks to the accompanying gasp. Emboldened, Arenvald throws himself into learning about her softness all over again in this new way. The warrior does not leave him wanting for moisture, nor soft sounds of pleasure.

His investigation determines she responds most fervently to two specific motions of his tongue - as it circles her bud, or as it traces its way up the middle of her sex and slips slightly between those puffy lips. The latter seems to especially wind the warrior up: her hips twist and arch, her thighs tense, and her fingers press with slightly more force against his scalp. To say nothing of the occasional soft yet urgent sound she offers.

 _She’s asking for more again,_ Arenvald finally realizes, taking the Warrior of Light’s soft-spoken nature into account. _I reckon she wants me to go deeper._ He’s not sure how much deeper his tongue _can_ reach - the pink muscle is wide, but not overlong. _Being in over one’s head isn’t new to either of us, though,_ he reminds himself, _nor is it cause to stop._ He does his best to indulge her.

Arenvald’s dedicated, if sloppy, tongue work rapidly erodes the Warrior of Light’s cool demeanor. Her body tenses against him and she whispers his name. He can feel her moving, squirming when he happens to do something especially effective, and he faintly hears muffled murmurs despite her thighs pressing against his ears. He values every bit of this wordless feedback.

Eventually, the Highlander has to come up for air, though, and he raises his head to a wonderful sight. The Warrior of Light writhes with pleasure and need, wrinkling the sheets. Her chest, which she must have bared while he was focused on his task, heaves and arches, and her face is flushed. As he watches, a lip held firmly between teeth slowly slides free, the sounds she was suppressing no longer requiring such.

“Would you say we’re even now?” Arenvald quips, wiping her arousal from his chin. _Rhalgr’s beard, I would have taken her all the way if I hadn’t needed to breathe._ He rolls onto his back, reaches down to take hold of his swollen manhood again, and - suddenly fearing he’ll somehow lose the erection right at this crucial moment - begins to stroke himself while she’s regaining her bearings.

She wipes her brow and gives him a decisive nod. That same intensity flares back into her eyes, that look that makes him shiver with lust, and she crawls across the blankets to him, then _over_ him. Her knee nudges the wrist of the hand touching his member, and he shifts that arm to allow her leg to reach his other side. Now she damply straddles his abdomen, one hand on his chest, looking down at him with the same mixture of excitement and nervousness he feels. That calms him a little.

“You ready, then?” he manages, to which the answer is a long breath and a hesitant nod. She doesn’t move, though. “You sure?”

This time the answer is a shake of the head. “...I don’t know if I’m safe.” Suddenly her face is pensive.

Arenvald blinks, confused. “Safe?”

“I mean... if you knock me up... it’s really going to get in the way of my duties.”

 _Oh._ Arenvald flinches. “Right. Shite. Forgot about that part.” He slumps backwards, foiled. “I don’t have a rubber on me, I sure didn’t expect it to go this far.”

She pouts for a moment, then rolls off him and springs off the bed. He sits up, casting about for alternatives, but then realizes she’s just searching the few cupboards the room comes equipped with. _Oh, I see. If this is really the lover’s suite…_ He stands up and joins her.

Before he can even finish surveying the shelves in the corner, though, she makes a satisfied sound and raises something in her hand. Reflecting on his own adventures thus far, Arenvald realizes she’s probably scrounged for hundreds of hidden objects of varying import. _She probably has an instinct for this kind of thing by now._

The Warrior of Light hurries back over to Arenvald, and he suddenly finds himself wishing the rubbers had been a few dozen more paces away from the bed, that he might have appreciated the pleasing bounce of her unsupported breasts for a little longer. She offers him two different condoms, one in each hand, with a curious tilt of her head.

Arenvald takes both and tries to determine the difference. Eventually, he settles on the smaller of the two. “This one looks like it’ll fit better.” The other is almost comically large… sized for Roegadyn? Arenvald tries not to dwell on that too much as he sets it aside.

The warrior nods and swipes the thin rubber sleeve from him. She stretches it out experimentally, then bids him sit down on the bed again.

He hastens to, knowing she means to wrap him herself. _I swear on my sword, if either of us has a godsdamned vision that’s somehow about this…_ Mercifully, he doesn’t get to finish the threat, because her fingers are gently coaxing the condom onto him now and he’s too busy throbbing into her light touch. _Who knew this part could be so good?_

She takes her sweet, slow, teasing time, and by the time she lets the base of the rubber go at the base of his erection he is unable to keep his hands off her. The warrior eagerly presses herself into his embrace, and he drags them both backward onto the bed. Now she’s lying atop him, and there are no more words, just emphatic kisses and touches. And her wetness grinding against him, lubricating the dry rubber until he can’t take it anymore. His hands find her hips, and he looks up to find her bobbing her head encouragingly. _This is it_.

Arenvald’s first attempts to penetrate her are clumsy, worsened by eagerness. Eventually he has to aim his slickened cock using his hand, and that is much easier, but he still doesn’t quite manage the right angle until she lowers her own hand to guide him as well.

She’s tight and yielding and soft and slippery and astounding and he balks after a mere ilm. Barely more than the head of his cock is inside her, and already he finds himself overcome. Fortunately, she is more determined than he, and a roll of her hips has him gasping. Deeper now, the unique caress of her sex envelops his length. Arenvald _feels_ the pre oozing inside the rubber. He can’t help it, his pelvis entreats her with a shudder of its own, his fingers digging into her hips. “Oh gods,” he instantly mumbles, at the same time as she whimpers with what sounds like a supreme need.

That was almost it. That was almost the sound he wanted. Motivated to a feverish degree by it, Arenvald attempts a proper thrust, and by the Twelve it almost sends him right over the edge to feel what he feels in that instant. _It’s like this the whole time? How does anyone last?_

Mercifully, it seems like she’s at least as overwhelmed as he is. Her eyes are wide, her jaw hangs slack, chest heaving, and it is some moments before she reciprocates. She tilts her hip to one side, altering his relative angle of entry, and almost collapses atop him.

Their mutual first progresses in approximately that manner for some minutes. One or both tries some movement, and it threatens to undo both of them completely. Yet neither wishes to proceed just yet, and so there are many small breaks in between these adventurous explorations.

Soon Arenvald is at what feels like his wits’ end. The tension of all this hesitant edging has him frustratingly taut. One of his feet is curled painfully, yet the cramp is not filtering through to his mind because there is sensation infinitely more important in the way. By now his ears have sifted through dozens of little whines and moans from the Warrior of Light, and now all he wants is release. For her, as well as him. She gazes into his eyes, and with that talent for communicating without words that she has, he knows she feels the same way. Within the same moment, their hips swing into motion again.

In the end, it takes only a dozen hasty, inexact thrusts to finish both of them off. She comes first, and that peal of sound so perfect that he wanted to bring about is everything. With a gasp and a twitch, Arenvald orgasms too, not a moment later. By base impulse, he discovers that he can prolong not only his own climax, but hers as well, by continuing to move, and he doggedly keeps rolling his hips until she moans again. This one is almost tinged with desperation, which if he allowed would spur him further, but there is also his own prick to consider, and all of a sudden that is _begging_ to be stimulated no longer. The Highlander relents, slightly dizzy.

The Warrior of Light collapses atop Arenvald, and he thinks for an insane second that it must be another tragically timed vision, but she is simply succumbing to the afterglow and the exertion. He wraps a gentle arm around her. Realizing why he’s light-headed, he takes several long breaths and ruminates on what just happened.

“Wow,” he finally marvels, still winded.

The warrior just nuzzles her head into his broad chest, tickling with her soft hair.

Arenvald’s hand slowly works its way up her back to cup the back of her head affectionately. “So that’s what’s all the fuss is about,” he quips.

She giggles breathlessly and brings a hand up to trace his chin in return.

Arenvald realizes quite suddenly that all of the hesitation from before has fled him, smoked out by their intimacy. The Warrior of Light no longer feels unapproachable, impossible. Every second she lingers in his arms is a refutation of that mindset. If anything, _she_ initiated this passionate interlude. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He can’t help but sigh contentedly as he continues to stroke her hair.

Eventually, Arenvald realizes the warrior has fallen asleep atop him, and gently rolls her off so he can quickly get cleaned up. When he crawls back into bed with her, she snuggles right up to him without even opening her eyes, and he reflects for another moment about how blessed he is, before drifting into blissful slumber himself.


End file.
